8. she's got it

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Brock didn't see Andrea's hand stretched out to get her phone back

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Brock didn't see Andrea's hand stretched out to get her phone back. He could only watch Gillian's serious professional face, controlled and patient as she gave the press a minute to set their cameras and microphones around her and the other woman.

"Dad! You disconnected!" Andrea complained. She took back her phone and dialed again. "Con! Sorry, that was Dad..."

Brock forgot to scold Andrea about using the phone on the table. Gillian was used to be on the news when she was in the PD, but this was the first time she'd face them since she joined the Bureau. He knew she wouldn't have any problem, and still he held his breath for a moment when the first reporter made a question. He was sure the whole brass would be watching.

Gillian's glance was enough to shut up the reporter. The others pushed their microphones even closer to her. She spoke calm and slow, for everybody to get her words.

"Tonight, the FBI and the Akron Police Department captured eight federal fugitives. They came here from the state of Maine, where they were wanted. All of them belonged to a civil militia engaged, among other things, in arms trafficking. They're also responsible for the three hate crimes committed over the last two months in different cities of Maine, resulting in the death of three African American citizens. Three weeks ago, when surrounded by combined law enforcement forces, they refused to surrender, and their attempt to fight their way out caused the death of six state troopers and four federal agents. That confrontation also caused injuries to over a dozen officers. They've abducted and tortured federal agents, and even infiltrated a hospital, attempting to kill those agents to keep them from testifying."

She paused and all the reporters shot questions at the same time. Gillian raised her hand and pointed at one of them.

"Is this operation related in any way to the terrorist attack in Paris yesterday?"

"No. This was a domestic group with no ties whatsoever to jihadist cells or any terrorist group overseas."

"What was their ideology?"

"White supremacy."

"Was the FBI following them when they sought shelter in our city?"

"Yes. We were pursuing parallel lines of investigation to locate the fugitives after they fled Maine. The confession of one of them, arrested two weeks ago in Portland, Maine, brought us here."

"Do you think our high crime and unemployment rates made them pick our city as a safe haven to hide?"

"No. They were on the run, desperate to hide anywhere away from Maine, and one of them happened to own a house here in Akron."

Out of the corner of his eye, Brock had a glimpse of Ben observing him, instead of the TV. And he realized his lips were curled up a little as he nodded at Gillian's perfect answers to deal with sensationalist and political questions—quick, confident, denying the reporters anything they could use to speculate later on. Gillian's words caught his attention again.

"...our special thanks to Detective Moore, who assisted us at all times, never caring it implied to face violent racist murderers. It's the work of local police officers like her what helps us do our job faster and safer for everybody all over the country."

She stepped back with a glance at the other woman and left her with the press. Another step back and Gillian was lost in the shadows, free to spin around and stride away.

Brock's eyes followed her until she disappeared among the fuss of people moving in the background.

"Is that your phone, Dad?"

Andrea's question made him notice a noisy ringtone growing louder from his room. Before he could answer, the girl hurried down the corridor. She came back with his phone.

"It was Agent Cassidy," she said, giving it to him. "Didn't get to it in time."

A flashy sound and a text showed on screen. Only two words from Cassidy: 'call me'.

"Excuse me," Brock muttered. He pushed back the wheelchair and guided it to the kitchen, his back turned to the table.

Cassidy picked up right away. "Gotta love'er, man! Well, no need to tell you that, right? Oh, she really did it tonight! The Director already called me to congratulate me. Hugs and pats on the shoulder coming our way, Brockner! Bad thing CT's gonna push harder to get'er. Especially now, with all the mess going on in Europe. Did you watch the procedure? Did you watch her address the press? Man, she's totally got it!"

Cassidy's enthusiastic banter allowed Brock to ignore the sudden chill he felt at the Section Chief's first words.

"...another commendation for sure. Now how are you? Bet you're glad she caught you those sons of bitches, huh? Oh, wait, that's the Director calling again. Gotta go. Take care and call me in the morning."

Brock exhaled when Cassidy disconnected. One good thing about his boss was his skill to have a whole conversation without Brock needing to say a single word. He rolled the chair back to the table and resumed dinner in silence. On TV, they were back to studios, where four people discussed hate crimes, child pregnancy, the primaries and whether Armstrong had really walked on the moon.



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